As soon as Gary peered through the door his face went white and his rage returned. Mike quickly put his hand on Gary’s chest to prevent him from throwing open the door and blindly barging in, but it was no use. Gary flung Mikes hand away, ripped the door open and charged towards their attacker, but Chuck was too quick. Chuck spun around with a look of delight on his sickly smiling face and descended on Jack’s unconscious form, pulling his head back by the hair to expose his throat upon which he threateningly placed a knife. Gary froze so quickly Mike ran into him like he was a brick wall.

“So nice of you to join us for dinner!” Chuck said happily.

Gary took a step forward and spoke through gritted teeth, “Get away from my br-”

“Ah ah ah!” Chuck interrupted, pressing the knife into Jack’s skin.

Gary fumed with rage and reluctantly took a step back. Mike stood silently behind Gary, using him to block Chuck’s veiw of the knife he was still gripping.

“Now, gentlemen, if you are going to be joining us I expect you to mind your manners. And that means following my directions closely, or you will never speak to your companion here again.”

“What did you do to my brother?” Gary said.

Chuck glanced at Jack’s leg and the pool of blood, “Nothing that he can’t survive, for a while. I need you all alive as long as possible.”

The skillet on the stovetop sizzled away.

“What in the hell are you talking about?” Gary’s anger was starting to boil up again. Chuck glanced at his skillet with concern as it smelled like it was starting to burn. He looked back at Gary and bared his teeth in a chilling smile at his question.

“I’ve been in the business of steaks for a long time.” Chuck said, “I know what part of the animal to take the best cuts of meat from, I know which way to slice a cut to make it beautifully tender, and I’ve of course developed a few of my own personal preferences over the years.”

Without taking the knife away from Jack’s throat, Chuck leaned toward the stove and was just able to reach far enough to turn off the burner beneath the skillet that had been cooking.

Mike took this opportunity to get closer and took a few steps forward to stand next to Gary, bringing the knife around behind his back keeping it hidden.

Chuck didn’t notice and continued talking, “Like many people I enjoyed a medium-rare steak when I first opened this place. I cooked myself a steak after closing up every night here, and I’d cook myself a steak and egg breakfast every morning. I felt like a king!” Chucks grin widened and his eyes gleamed with nostalgia. “Every night, and every morning, I would take the meat off the grill a little sooner. I had started my love affair with very rare, very bloody, lovely meat. I had long stopped cooking my eggs to go with my steak breakfast or anything else for lunch or dinner other than meat as everything had started to make me sick. Everything except a lovely, bloody steak. And then one day I couldn’t keep my beloved steak down. Out of desperation I tried other animal meats cooked up rare, but I found nothing that I could keep down or that was a worthy substitute. After a week of vomiting up everything, a craving began to take hold of me. I found my stomach growling from a delicious scent throughout my restaurant after guests had been seated and before the kitchen had even begun preparing any food. I served a beautiful young woman in a tantalizingly short and plunging dress one night that I could not contain my desire for. Her long lovely legs and large rounded breasts did not solicit the typical sexual desire from me though, no. They made my mouth water with an undeniable hunger. Then one night my fate was sealed by my careless sous-chef when he sliced a large piece of his thumb off. I was starving and lost control, stupidly attacking him with my restaurant full of guests. Worse than that though, because of my lack of control or understanding of my needs, I did not keep him alive and instead drained and butchered him like a common cow. I was able to keep his meat in my belly, but I quickly realized I was still incredibly weak and my craving had not been satisfied.” Gary’s eyes had gotten wider and wider as Chuck talked, a shocking realization coming over him as he stared at the meat in the skillet.

“You’re... you’re sick!” Gary blurted out.

Chuck laughed and replied, “Why yes, yes I am sick. But I’ve found the cure. And you three are going to help me prepare it.” Chuck adjusted his grip in Jack’s hair and pressed the knife harder into his throat, depressing the skin.

“Get into the walk in and shut the door.” Chuck said.

Mike looked at the door to the walk in fridge behind them and to his left. There would be no opportunity to get to Jack on the way over there, and his gut told him closing that door would be his final act.

“Like hell we’re goin’ in there.” Gary growled.

“Now that’s the kind of attitude that will get your little brother here killed.” Chuck said as he pressed the knife just enough to elicit a trickle of blood and causing Jack to stir. Gary flushed red with anger and gave Mike a look of desperation. Mike’s mind raced as he glanced around the kitchen for anything that could help them, then back at the walk in door. He studied the door handle. By some miracle, it was not a typical walk in door. It looked like the original handle had been broken off and that Chuck had improvised a one sided regular doorknob and deadbolt to fit in its place. He’d somehow cut crude slots into the door and the frame of the cooler to allow for it. True, there was still no inner doorknob or handle, meaning that once that door was shut, they’d be stuck in there. But Chuck would have to get up, freeing Jack momentarily, to lock that deadbolt.

“We ain’t got a choice, but I’ve got a plan.” Mike whispered to Gary as he began backing away towards the walk in. Gary looked back at his brother, lingering for a long moment before forcing himself towards the walk in. They opened the door and stepped inside. It wasn’t cold, and it was empty save for a bucket in a corner and a few filthy blankets on the floor. There was no handle on the inside of the door. Mike’s stomach dropped at the sight, thinking of how many people had possibly been imprisoned here.

“Now swing the door so it shuts behind you.” Chuck said.

Gary looked at Mike, willing him not to do it. Mike stepped forward a gripped the edge of the heavy door, pulling it halfway shut. With the door now blocking them from Chuck’s view, Mike placed the knife flat against the door frame, covering the drilled holes that the door handle would need in order to close. He pulled the edge of the door again, this time quickly to allow it to swing into place after he withdrew his hand. It worked perfectly.

Mike still had a grip on the knife by its handle preventing the door from clicking shut, but it appeared shut to Chuck on the outside.

“Get ready, we’re gonna slam this thing into him when he tries to lock us in, got it?” Mike whispered.

Gary blinked in surprise for a moment, then whispered back, “Got it.”

They listened to Chucks footsteps getting closer. Gary took a firm stance placing his hands on the door, Mike did the same placing his free hand on the door. Mike’s heart was pounding harder than he’d ever felt in his life.

He knew what he needed to do in just a few short seconds, and yes what he was about to do was scary in its own because if he failed, it could mean the death of himself and his friends. But the real reason his heart was pounding and his hands were sweating was because he was terrified that he would succeed. He’d never killed a man.

to be continued...

“JACK!” Mike yelled as he backed into the kitchen.

Gary managed to find a light switch and flicked it on just in time for them to see Chuck’s bony frame effortlessly toss an unconscious and bleeding Jack over his shoulder and disappear behind a side door.

Gary let out a scream of rage and charged after his little brother. When he found Chuck had locked the door behind him, he proceeded to kick and body slam the door relentlessly, grunting and screaming with every blow. Mike ran into the kitchen frantically searching for something to use as a weapon but stopped dead in his tracks. Human hands. Human feet. Human heads, all dismembered and nailed to the walls through tendons and hair. There were so many, there were bodyparts nailed to the ceiling, and heads hanging from a pot rack in the center of the kitchen. Mike forced himself to move forward through the kitchen towards a large knife block, there was no time to process what he was seeing at the moment. With shaking hands he grabbed the biggest knife he saw and ran back into the dining room.

Just as Mike reached the door Gary was attacking, it gave way. Gary tumbled into the room and Mike rushed in after him. Mike helped Gary up off the floor, holding the knife out in front of him and Gary panting with his fists at the ready. They listened tensely for any sounds of movement as they waited for their eyes to adjust to the dim light.

“Where did he go?” Gary whispered.

Mike didn’t answer as they began quietly searching among the floor to ceiling shelves. They were packed with non perishable food and restaurant supplies and all covered in dust. There was no sign of Jack or his attacker anywhere in the huge storage room, and the place was eerily silent. Mike noticed a door with a sliver of light escaping the bottom of it at the far end of the room.

“Gary,” Mike whispered, “this way.” He motioned towards the door and they both began walking as quietly as they could towards it. As they approached it, Mike became aware of the smell of cooking and some faint indistinct noises. Gary looked at Mike, acknowledging with a puzzled glance that he could smell and hear it too. The noise and the smell of meat grilling became stronger the closer they got. Mike reached the door first and looked at Gary as he gripped the doorknob. Gary nodded indicating he was ready for whatever they would find behind the door. Mike slowly turned the knob and opened the door just enough to peak inside, and knew that Gary was definitley not ready.

The door led back into the grotesquely decorated kitchen. There was Chuck humming and pacing maniacally in front of a stove, pausing every so often to tend to whatever he was cooking. And there was Jack, still unconscious, but now gagged and bound on the tile floor surrounded by decaying body parts. Blood was pooling around him, dripping from a gaping wound on his thigh where a large chunk of flesh was now missing. Mike’s stomach dropped at the site of so much blood. He watched Jack’s chest with baited breath until he saw it rise and fall before reluctantly backing away from the door so Gary could take a look.

to be continued...

He savored her last heart beats on his palm in her final minutes of life before the sunrise. When the cancer had taken her breasts years ago, she played a prank wearing her prosthetic bra backwards for a hug, leaving them both crying with laughter. When it spread to bone and she lost hope, he became her strength, literally carrying her to their daughter’s wedding day. But now the final part of their marriage vows made thirty years ago were coming to pass. They had laughed and loved deeply til the end, and now death had come to part them.

Thank you for reading this poetic version of true events between a husband and wife, my mother and father.

Mike shuddered at the use of the word ‘we’, and Gary and Jack seemed oblivious to the disturbing behavior of their host.

“Yeah we’re gonna have yer ‘World Famous Porterhouse Steak’ all around, just like the beers.” Gary said with a smile, anticipating an easy laugh from Chuck. Chuck obliged with a forced chuckle.

“Coming right up!” Chuck said before disappearing into the kitchen again.

Mike didn’t waste any time and stood up to leave as soon as Chuck was out of sight.

“Guys, we gotta go, and we gotta go before mister one-man-band comes back.” Mike said to a confused Gary and Jack.

“You really are that worried about a skinny chef Mike?” Jack said.

“Are you kiddin’ me?” Mike said, “Did neither of you see that freak literally drooling over us?”

“What in the hell are you talking about? You’re acting weirder than the weirdo now!” Gary said.

“Oh I get it!” Jack exclaimed, “A skinny chef would only make gross healthy stuff, like he’s probably back there trying to make some tofu porterhouses or somethin’!” Jack laughed at his own joke and Gary joined in. Mike looked like steam was about to escape from his ears and was probably weighing the pros and cons of leaving the two idiots behind. Mike glanced towards the kitchen doors and his stomach dropped at the sight of Chuck watching them with that insidious smile through one of the little round windows.

Mike turned back to Gary and Jack, “Look, you two clowns may think I’m being paranoid but I bet you won’t wanna be stuck here after I leave without you in my truck. So shut the hell up and lets go. Now.”

Gary cursed and muttured about not wanting to come inside this dump in the first place and got up. Jack followed suit. Mike looked back at the kitchen doors and didn’t see Chuck in the window anymore. He nearly ran to the front doors only to find they were locked. Gary reached the front doors and tried them as well.

“What in the- I didn’t see that guy lock the doors behind us, did you?” Gary said, annoyed. Mike looked around nervously.

The dining room lights suddenly went out, leaving just the porch outside illuminated and the inside of the restaurant pitch black.

“What in the hell is goin’ on?” Gary yelled angrily as he jiggled the doorknob and then started yanking on it. Mike looked out the window at his truck and noticed someone standing next to it.

“Gary cut it out!” Mike yelled, putting his hand on Gary’s shoulder and pulling him off the door.

“The damn thing won’t-”

“He’s outside! Look!” Mike pointed out the window.

Chuck was standing by the truck. He was holding a baseball bat in one hand, and a large knife in the other. And he was of course, grinning that yellow grin.

Suddenly he swung the bat into the the windsheild, obscuring the driver side view with cracks, then wrenching the bat loose and taking his knife, he stabbed one of the front tires.

Mike stood in shock still gripping Gary’s shoulder, just watching as he slowly walked around the truck stabbing all four tires flat. After the last tire was deflated, the man called Chuck turned his attention back to the three men gaping at him through the restaurant lobby windows. With a grin he started walking towards the front doors, baseball bat and knife still in hand.

“Mike, what’s going on?” Jack said, his voice wavering with fear.

“Head for the kitchen!” Mike yelled as he ran blindly into the dark dining room. They half ploughed and half stumbled through all the chairs and tables. The sound of a lock clicking and the front doors opening sent a panic through the room.

“Gary! Jack! Come on!” Mike yelled in the direction of their clambering sounds.

“Holy hell, holy hell, HOLY HELL!” Gary was yelling and it sounded like he was now tossing furniture out of his way.

“I’M COMING DON’T LEAVE ME! I’M COMING!” Jack was screaming in panic and Mike could hear him scrambling around like a frightened animal.

Mike and Gary made it across the dining room, slamming into the wall and feeling for the kitchen doors. Gary found a handle and jerked the doors open.

Jack’s scream was cut off with a thump and the sound of him crumpling onto the floor.

to be continued...

The beat up truck pulled up to the old steakhouse and three guys climbed out from the single front seat. Gary slammed the passenger door shut and took a few steps toward the restaurant, furrowing his brow and looking back at Mike who had suggested the place. Gary’s younger brother Jack climbed out of the truck also looking confused.

Mike didn’t notice the reluctance, slammed his driver door shut, and got halfway to the entrance before realizing they weren’t following.

Mike turned around and said, “What? You guys too high class for this joint?”

Gary and Jack looked at each other, then back at the restaurant. Even in the dark the place looked run down. It resembled a saloon like in an old western, but one that was just plain falling apart. The floorboards of its wrap-around porch were warped from exposure to rain through the holes in the sagging extended roof. The letters on the sign for the place had completely peeled off leaving “Chucks Steakhouse” spelled out in only faint glue residue.

Gary looked at Mike and said, “Yeah, I reckon we may be too high class for this place.” Jack chuckled.

“Come on, I ain’t driving all the way back to town at this time of night, and I’ve heard this place is good!” Mike said.

Gary and Jack still looked unconvinced.

Mike continued, “Well they’ve gotta have beer in there right? And you can’t screw up opening a bottle of beer now can ya?”

“Okay, okay, we’ll stop yanking your chain and go to your shitty restaurant.” Gary said jokingly as he began walking towards the entrance with Jack following behind.

They entered the dimly lit restaurant and approached an empty host’s podium. Looking around they immediately noticed it was completely empty. The double doors to the kitchen suddenly flew open and a host with a broad smile appeared behind the podium. The teeth that made up the man’s smile were as yellow as his eyes and sickly complexion. His black oily hair was combed flat against the head that topped his bony frame. He looked like a skeleton that had been given life.

“Welcome to Chucks Steakhouse!” he said excitedly. “My name is Chuck, and yes I’m the one the steakhouse is named after!” He let out a cartoonishly loud laugh, making the men jump, “How many in your party?” The host continued smiling and stared intently at the men. They were silent for a moment, taking in his disturbing appearance and jarring liveliness.

Mike finally cleared his throat and stepped forward to answer, “Uh...um...three. Yeah we got three here.”

“Great! Follow me!” Chuck said without relaxing his smile.

Mike looked back at the others and shrugged his shoulders before following as if to say, “Well, it’s too late to turn back now.”

They were seated at a round table in the very center of the restaurant and Chuck handed them menus.

“Anything to drink tonight?” he asked them.

Gary was ready with an answer, “Yer cheapest bottled beer all around, please and thank ya.”

Chuck suddenly laughed loudly again.

“Beer is beer, I couldn’t agree more!” Chuck continued to chuckle and slapped Gary on the back as if they were old friends. Gary was caught by surprise at the strength behind the blows, if he didn’t know any better, he would have thought a body builder had been slapping him on the back.

Chuck quit laughing and said, “I’ll go get you guys those beers!” he left the table and went back into the kitchen.

“Well that’s the weirdest guy I’ve ever met.” said Jack, breaking the silence.

Gary let out a snort-laugh. “I second that, he almost knocked the wind outta me!”

“So, I guess he’s our waiter too?” Mike said.

“I guess.” Gary said, “He’s the owner, the host, the waiter...”

Jack picked up a menu and jabbed one of the pages with his finger before closing it and tossing it in the center of the table.

“Welp I’ve decided, I’m in the mood for some ‘World Famous Porterhouse Steak’ and a ‘Get the hell outta here as fast as possible’ what about you guys?” said Jack.

Gary grabbed Mike’s menu out of his hands and tossed their menus onto the table as well, “That sounds pretty damn good Jack, we’ll get the same.”

Mike sighed but didn’t protest the selection being made for him, that was just Gary’s personality. He was a gruff, get ’er done type that didn’t care about manners. It made for a well balanced friendship between them, as Mike was more put together and usually able to smooth over situations Gary would get them into.

Mike said, “Well I hope to God he ain’t the cook too, you know what they say about not trusting a skinny chef.”

“What? What’s wrong with a skinny chef?” Jack asked.

Before Mike could answer Chuck was back with their beers, still sporting that wide yellow smile. He took his time handing them out, and Mike noticed something strange. He seemed to sniff deeply and slowly while leaning over Gary to place his beer in front of him. He moved on to Jack, sniffing deeply again while serving Jack’s beer, a look of pleasure and anticipation on his face. He seemed to be drooling as well, taking time to frequently pat his mouth with a cloth he had draped over his shoulder.

“He’s not smelling them, is he?” Mike thought to himself, “and salivating?”

Mike stiffened as the host moved on to serve him. Chuck leaned down and inhaled deeply, similar to what he’d done to Gary and Jack except this time more indulgently. He placed Mike’s beer on the table and stood up again. The hairs on Mike’s neck were on end as he looked up at Chuck. Chuck was still smiling, but now his lips twitched as he continued to drool, and his yellow teeth were nearly chattering with excitement. His gaze was absolutely predatory and bone-chilling. Chuck looked away from Mike and composed himself, dabbing his mouth with the cloth again.

“Well gentlemen, are we ready to order?” Chuck said.

to be continued...